


The Phoenix Lament

by WigtownWanderer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Aurors, Espionage, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Mystery, Revolution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3420161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WigtownWanderer/pseuds/WigtownWanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oxford Street, London. The body of a woman is found dead on the sidewalk, shot three times through the heart. Neither local police nor the National Crime Agency could find a witness or any physical evidence except the bullets, which promptly vanished in a puff of black smoke when extracted. What's more, the woman's identity could not be found in any database.</p><p>Set against the backdrop of a social revolution where protestors demand the breakdown of the International Statute of Secrecy, Auror Liam Sinclair and his team must decipher the mystery of Mafalda Hopkirk's death, and the Dark machinations that surround it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phoenix Lament

_The walls were falling apart._

_Jagged cracks from floor to ceiling. Rubble crashed down with every new flash of light, disturbing layers of dust and fresh blood on the marble floor. The young boy heard a cry of anguish in the distance. He kept a tight hold on his wand, not that it would help; he barely knew any defensive spells._

_“Liam!” Someone shouted, behind him._

_Somewhere, far away, a bell rang. ___

__\---_ _

__Liam Sinclair sat bolt upright in his bed. His body and sheets were covered in a cold sweat, and he was breathing hard, as if he had been running. A cacophony echoed in his skull; dimly, some waking sense of logic understood that it was the fireplace._ _

__He forced himself to relax. He had snatched his wand from under his pillow in his nightmare, and was gripping it so tightly, his knuckles were white. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Alright, alright.” He grumbled at the source of the noise._ _

__Liam hefted himself out of bed and crossed the room. His studio apartment was tiny, but well-kept and modern, as modern as wizards go. He pushed his curls of blonde hair out of his face, and shuffled into the kitchenette to put the kettle on. He would have a visitor soon. He wasn’t worried about any unknown company; a different bell would ring if they had sinister motives, among other unsavory security measures._ _

__With a flick of his wand, the stovetop sparked to life, and it was only then that he realized he still had a vicegrip on it. He set it deliberately down on the counter, and eyed the fireplace for any signs of movement. Nothing, save for the few remaining embers of the evening’s fire. Outside, rain pattered against the window that led to his balcony._ _

__He took a slow breath. If someone was calling at three in the morning, in his line of work, it couldn’t have meant anything good. He decided to get dressed, just in case._ _

__As he was slipping a leg through a pair of pants, the ringing stopped, and an emerald flare erupted in the hearth. Right on cue, as if he were waiting for the opportune moment of embarrassment, stepped Liam’s boss, the Head Auror himself: Harry Potter. His jet-black hair, usually a tangled mess, was glued to his head by water. His dark traveling cloak was sopping wet, obviously fresh from the storm outside._ _

__“Oh, bloody hell,” Liam muttered in surprise, his slightly French accent still a bit thick from sleep. He fumbled the rest of his jeans on and nearly toppled over in the process. “Mr. Potter.”_ _

__Harry, who might have enjoyed the laugh were it not for the severity of his mood, ignored the display. “Liam.” The tone made the Auror look up. He knew what it meant._ _

__“Who?”_ _

__Harry looked at him somberly from above the rim of his glasses. “Mafalda.”_ _

__A rock dropped squarely into Liam’s stomach. Mafalda. Every child who grew up at the turn of the millennium knew her voice; it was Mafalda Hopkirk that sent the Howlers home for violating the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, as many were wont to do. That is, until she accepted a promotion as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He’d worked with her personally on many consultations, walked by her every day on the way to his office, enjoyed the cookies she and her granddaughter made on Christmas._ _

__And now she was dead?_ _

__“How did it happen?” Liam asked._ _

__“That’s why I’m here. Get your coat. We don’t have a lot of time before the police arrive.”_ _

__“... ‘Police?’” Liam repeated, unsure if Harry misspoke. “You don’t mean she was in the Muggle world.”_ _

__“Oxford Street.” Harry clarified._ _

__The tea kettle began to whistle._ _

___Fantastic._ _ _

__\---_ _

__Because of the security measures built into it, nobody could just Apparate into or out of Liam’s tiny apartment. It was a modest affair in the middle of wizarding London, furnished enough to be comfortable, yet wholly representative of the lifestyle a single man can live on an Auror’s paycheck with recent budget cuts. Liam enjoyed it. Less rooms to have to keep track of. Liam threw his leather jacket around his shoulders and let Harry lead the way onto the balcony. The street below, bustling with foot traffic during the day due to its proximity to Diagon Alley, slept peacefully for the most part. A few nocturnal souls wandered in the rain._ _

__Harry nodded at Liam, who laid a hand on his shoulder. With a sickening lurch that felt as if he were being pulled through a straw, the two popped out of existence, and emerged in the middle of Oxford Street._ _

__The scene was haunting. Not just because of the body of Mafalda Hopkirk, spread-eagle in a pool of her own blood. It was because the only source of illumination were precious few lit wands; the entire street was pitch black. The Aurors had set up anti-Muggle charms, obscuring vision into and out, and rerouting the police around the scene. A faint purple shimmer, barely visible in the rain, traced a circle that formed their boundary. They couldn’t keep it up for very long, but they had to remove any trace of magic from the area before the Muggle authorities showed up. The Aurors cast no spells to keep the rain out, instead allowing it to soak them._ _

__Liam knew it was protocol when dealing with Muggles, but he had never seen it firsthand before. He tried to avoid Muggles when he had the choice. But he knew that dry asphalt in the middle of a rainstorm would raise eyebrows, when they were finally allowed into the scene, so he let himself be drenched._ _

__“How much time do we have?” Liam asked, checking his wristwatch._ _

__“Three minutes.”_ _

__“What do we have?” He looked around._ _

__“Mafalda Hopkirk, apparently on her own in the middle of one of Muggle London’s busiest streets.” An Auror Liam knew to be Orion Shan, a young girl fresh from the training academy, with very short hair and a gash on her right cheek that was beginning to heal. “No signs of any magic done within a kilometer radius. Cause of death… this.” She pointed with a gloveless hand at a single, gaping hole in the chest. “What do you think?”_ _

__Liam shook his head. “Gun? Makes sense, where we found her.”_ _

__Shan crinkled her nose, and moved to touch the wound, perhaps to look for a bullet. Harry, who had been crouching with them, grabbed her wrist. “Muggles know how to find you by your fingerprints. Careful not to touch anything without gloves.”_ _

__Liam had learned that the hard way when he first started out. He left fingerprints at a crime scene he was supposed to lock down, and it filtered through the Ministry that the Muggle authorities had a warrant for his arrest in connection with a triple homicide. Oops. To the Auror department’s credit, they only poked fun at him for a few weeks._ _

__Liam checked his watch again. “Who alerted them?”_ _

__“Bystander.” Rikard Junge told him, a grizzled man about Liam’s age. He had dark skin, a faint goatee, and one of his eyes was glossed over with what appeared to be cataracts. He held his gnarled oak wand aloft, its tip glowing ghostly white. “No luck finding zem yet.”_ _

__“Let’s hope the rain kept them from seeing anything magical. Thirty seconds, Mr. Potter.” Liam reminded him. Thirty seconds, and this street would be crawling with Muggle authorities and curious pedestrians. As the Aurors did their final sweep, Liam took one final look at Mafalda’s body. He swallowed hard, trying to think of who would want to kill her. But given the recent political climate, that list was by no means short. He shook his head. “How could a Muggle get the best of a witch?”_ _

__“That’s for the police to find out. Right, kill the lights.” Harry ordered, and the Aurors stashed their wands away, leaving them in complete darkness. “Rendezvous in ten minutes. Go.”_ _

__Liam and the rest of the Aurors Apparated out of the area with a crack. He emerged several blocks away, down an alley; his sudden appearance toppled a trash can and sent a cat sprinting up the wooden fence behind him. His right foot landed in a puddle. _Merde.__ _

__He slogged his way back to the scene, weaving his way through a couple of drunken laughing teenagers shambling down the sidewalk, as well as a homeless man who asked for some change. Having no change on him that wouldn’t be incriminating, Liam apologized and walked on, until he arrived back at Oxford Street._ _

__The anti-Muggle charms had been lifted; he heard the sirens before he arrived. The light was allowed back into the scene, illuminating everything in a fluorescent glow. Muggle police cordoned off the area with yellow tape, and blocked all traffic from coming in. Liam was floored by the efficiency of it all. He was glad Harry had taken it upon himself to run this show; if someone who didn’t know how Muggles operated had taken command, this would have been a catastrophe from the start._ _

__Liam joined the throng of onlookers, tiptoeing to get a better look over hooded heads. Looking down at himself, he hoped he didn’t stand out, but he had managed to dress himself rather appropriately. Leather jacket, jeans, rain boots. The only thing out of place would have been the wand holster at his side, if it were visible under the layers of clothing._ _

__“Hey.” Junge greeted him casually, his pockets stuffed in his trench coat. “What’s going on here?” The man looked at him meaningfully._ _

__Liam shook his head. “No idea.”_ _

__“A lady’s been shot.” A middle-aged woman holding a polka-dot umbrella said._ _

__“No kidding?” Junge asked her, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. His ability to put on a facade always impressed Liam; Junge was quite the charmer, with a natural handsomeness that only lent to his believability. “Gott. How did it happen?”_ _

__“Police’re looking into it now,” the lady responded. “Damn shame. Woman on her own in the middle of the night, shot in the street. Not safe for any of us nowadays, is it?”_ _

__Junge gave her a small sympathetic smile as she shuffled off. When she was gone, he leaned over to Liam. “What was she doing here, Sinclair? It doesn’t make sense.”_ _

__“Maybe she was coerced,” Liam hazarded, scanning the crowd for Harry or anyone else on their team. “Imperius Curse? Can’t imagine why she would come out here in the middle of the night any other way.”_ _

__“Ja,” Junge agreed, and pulled a cigarette from one of his pockets. “But a Muggle gun. Und why?”_ _

__Liam sighed, his brain rattling. The adrenaline was starting to wear off. He had only gotten to sleep a couple hours ago, working a double shift, and it didn’t look like he was getting to bed anytime soon, at this point. “No hits on your ouija board about this?”_ _

__“Heh. Nein.” Junge was a Seer. His abilities had come in handy more than once, but they were spotty at best; he described it as a glimpse into possibility. Still, Liam had consulted him several times on cases he couldn’t quite get a handle on, much to the chagrin of more concrete wings of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who needed more substantial evidence than that to make an arrest._ _

__Liam spotted Harry among the faces on the other side of the thinning crowd. He gestured for him to come. Liam gave Junge a nod and made his way over, where he found Harry conversing under his breath with a middle-aged man, with a healing gash on his cheek._ _

__“You’re positive.”_ _

__“Yes.” The man answered, in the voice of Orion Shan. The girl was a Metamorphmagus, a shapeshifter; she had changed into what appeared to be a government official, so that she could get information from the police. Where she got the suit, Liam couldn’t say, but he was very impressed. She looked official enough to fool the police, and yet the setting was right so that intermingled with the crowd, she appeared to be just another bystander. He’d heard that the late Nymphadora Tonks held the record for the highest scores in Stealth and Concealment, but Liam was willing to bet she had a run for her money. “I have the address. But Mr. Potter, she’s a murder victim on their streets. They won’t just turn over the body if we ask them nicely.”_ _

__Harry swore under his breath._ _

__“They have to.” Liam insisted. Mafalda was their people, their friend, not the Muggles’. But Harry shook his head._ _

__“Shan’s right, Sinclair. They’ll have to keep the body. This is… unprecedented.” Harry shook his head, absently rubbing his forehead where his legendary lightning scar was. Liam wondered whether it was a nervous twitch, or if it really did hurt, sometimes. “Alright. We let her go. For now.”_ _

__“So what do we do now?” Liam asked._ _

__“Our tracks are covered, for the most part, there’s nothing that gives us away,” Harry said, “but we need to find a way to get into wherever they’re keeping her. This entire thing, I don’t like it. This wasn’t just a mugging. Shan. See if you can go with them. You have the ID’s?” The middle-aged Shan nodded. “Good. Don’t let her out of your sight for as long as you can. When you know where they took her, come back.”_ _

__“Liam.” Harry then turned to him. “Ron’s out in Croatia at the moment, he can’t be pulled away. That leaves you as my second.” Liam felt his eyebrows raise in surprise before catching himself. “Don’t give me that, you’re one of my best. Word has it you have contacts.”_ _

__“I do, but not in the Muggle world,” Liam told him. He ran through his mental list of people he kept on tap for information. It was a fairly impressive one._ _

__It stopped short on a name. But Liam didn’t like it. “Never mind. I know a man.”_ _

__“See it done. Get anything you can. Start with the witness. There’s a Muggle out there who saw everything.”_ _

__Liam’s head was swimming with the enormity of it all, but he nodded. “And you?”_ _

__“Damage control,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “The joys of being head honcho. Stay safe, you hear? Hey.” Harry casually pointed at his own eyes, then Liam. “Constant vigilance.”_ _

__With that, Harry disappeared back into the throng. Most of the crowd had cleared out. Liam watched the portly Shan climb into an officer’s car. Whatever fake ID she had must have been convincing._ _

__Liam looked around, and decided on his first stop: the coffee shop. Hopefully the Muggles made a strong brew; he was going to need it._ _

__He had an ex to see._ _


End file.
